


Kink

by orphan_account



Series: Anoesis [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cutesy, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Pre-Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> Grantaire isn’t kinky. Really. He swears he isn’t.</i> </p><p>  <i>	He’s just not into chains or whips or any of that stuff. To each his own and all, but he likes his sex pretty vanilla. Eponine is the one who brings weird stuff into the bedroom, like chocolate syrup and those toys that he doesn’t actually understand, and Grantaire would never protest because it always ends up fun despite any initial doubts.</i></p><p>  <i>	Still, it’s not his thing.</i></p><p>  <i>	At least, until now.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>	He’s not really sure how to let his girlfriend know that he would be one-hundred percent okay with being tied down and fucked by the president of her activism club. </i></p><p> </p><p>Grantaire wants a threesome but he's not really sure how to ask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kink

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place within a little E/E/R universe I've created. I'll be posting things from this 'verse whenever inspiration sparks. This fic is pre-threesome, but Grantaire and Eponine have been dating since they were thirteen.

Grantaire isn’t kinky. Really. He swears he isn’t.

            He’s just not into chains or whips or any of that stuff. To each his own and all, but he likes his sex pretty vanilla. Eponine is the one who brings weird stuff into the bedroom, like chocolate syrup and those toys that he doesn’t actually understand, and Grantaire would never protest because it always ends up fun despite any initial doubts.

            Still, it’s not his thing.

            At least, until now.

            He’s not really sure how to let his girlfriend know that he would be one-hundred percent okay with being tied down and fucked by the president of her activism club. Or with watching her get off with aforementioned president. Or with anything, as long as goddamn Enjolras is somehow involved.

            It really is an injustice, Grantaire thinks as he waits outside the Musain for Eponine to come out of her meeting, that one man can be so beautiful. An injustice he will gladly endure, he mentally adds as Enjolras himself strides out of the café with purpose (because he always walks with purpose and _God_ , what Grantaire would give to have that purpose be _him_ ).

            “Grantaire,” Enjolras says with a curt nod as he passes, a folder tucked underneath his arm.

            Grantaire tries to say hello, but winds up choking on his own spit as he watches the man walk away.

            Eponine emerges a moment later and greets with a kiss on the cheeks and a cup of coffee. “You okay, R?” she asks, probably because he’s still a little star struck and perhaps a little horny too, and she can always tell.

            A sip of his coffee – bitter and black as his soul – brings him back to Earth. “I’m fine,” he chokes out and laces his fingers with hers. They set off down the sidewalk, arms swinging in their usual rhythm. “How was your day?”

            They engage in idle small chat, discussing Eponine’s inane classes and the stupid customers Grantaire has to deal with at the retail shop around the corner, until they reach their apartment complex. It’s a decrepit building, all peeling paint and boarded up windows, but they love their little space. It’s cheap, it doesn’t have too many rodents, and, most importantly, it’s theirs.

            Well, for a monthly price, but they manage.

            They take the creaky steps two at a time as Eponine tells him about whatever hopeless cause her activism club is supporting this week, and Grantaire has to bite his tongue to keep from commenting. It’s not too hard, anyway – because the activism club has Enjolras, and thinking about Enjolras makes him think about having sex with Enjolras, and the next thing he knows, Grantaire is wondering if the steps could handle all three of them running and kissing and possibly screwing.

            (And he swears he’s not kinky, but stairs sex would be _hot_ , even though the boards would probably collapse under their combined weight.)

            By the time they actually get inside the apartment, Grantaire is very horny and very hard and Eponine has _definitely_ noticed because she grabs him by the wrist and pushes him against the front door before it’s even clicked shut.

            Eponine’s kisses are still fiery and fascinating even after dating for nearly ten years, and Grantaire figures this is probably why kinks are part of _her_ half of the relationship. He’s totally okay with that, of course, because there is no way in hell that he would resist being held between their faded red front door and his girlfriend as she kisses him, her fingers weaving through his curls. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of her sweatpants, rubbing circles in her hips as she laughs against his lips.

            “Tease,” she says and pulls back slightly, one hand still entwined in his hair as she unbuttons her shirt. Her ABC Club pin is red and bright against the worn blue shirt she’s had since their sophomore year in high school, and it jangles when the fabric shifts.

            And then Enjolras is back on Grantaire’s mind and he can’t really help but groan as the thought goes straight to his crotch.

            Eponine raises her eyebrow and pulls her hand back so she can fully remove her shirt. “Yes, my still-fully-clothed-dear?” she asks as she sheds her lacy camisole and gives him a pointed glare.

            Grantaire pulls his shirt over his head, rolling his eyes. “I want sex,” he says simply, because that’s true and it’s honest and he is definitely not telling his girlfriend he wants to sleep with the president of her activism club right before they have sex.

            “Oh?” Eponine says. She presses a kiss to his shoulder and he shudders at the contact.

            “With Enjolras,” he blurts out and shit, yes, he’s telling his girlfriend that he wants to sleep with the president of her activism right before they have sex. “And you,” he hurriedly adds. “Preferably at the same time. If that’s okay with you.” It’s sort of hard to form words, because Eponine is making a trail of red lipstick up his neck and her hands are everywhere and he just hopes she doesn’t laugh at him. “Is that okay with you?”

            Eponine stops her ministrations to focus on unbuttoning his jeans, gnawing on her button lip as she fights with the stubborn zipper that always gets stuck. “Enjolras?” she says contemplatively. “I’d be in. Fuck, R, will you just undo your own damn pants?”

            Grantaire laughs and does just that as she pushes down her sweatpants and thong in one motion. “So you’re okay with that? If he is, I mean?” Grantaire can’t believe how easy this is (“this” being the potential threesome and not the getting out of his jeans, because wriggling out of denim and boxers is actually difficult when you’re still being pressed against the wall).

            Eponine grabs him by the back of his neck and he instinctively catches her around the waist, holding their bodies together in the so-familiar embrace. “Grantaire,” she says and he tightens his grip, nails digging into her skin, because she rarely abandons the nickname and _God,_ maybe she should use his full name more often because the way it rolls off her tongue is one of the hottest things he’s ever heard. He struggles to actually focus on everything she says after that. “I would be _love_ to fuck you both. In fact,” and then she stops and laughs. “I was trying to figure out how to bring it up with you.”

            They have sex on the kitchen table because, try as he might, Grantaire just doesn’t have the willpower to get them all the way to the bedroom.

            At least the chocolate syrup is more easily accessible this time. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading. Feedback is always wonderful.


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